


On the Job and Counting

by bellygunnr



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Barney has some vices that only Gordon and his shiny new lab can sate.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110





	On the Job and Counting

Ever since Gordon had gotten his own lab, Barney had been acting off, brimming with a weird, barely-stifled excitement that only rushed to the surface should they take their breaks there. He watches Barney now from his seat behind his desk, chin resting in the palm of his hand. Barney was looking around the spacious room with quick, fluttering eyes that lingered a second too long on the windows looking out into the halls. When he finally reaches his desk, it’s to place a palm down flat, leaning into Gordon’s space.

“How’s work been, darlin’?” Barney says, smiling in that loose, easy-going way of his.

“I’m making headway on that difficult project I told you about,” Gordon admits, head tilting. “And yours?”

There’s an air between them, ever so slightly charged. Gordon sits upright as he watches Barney shift his weight, rolling his tongue between his teeth like he does when he’s unsure about something. The space between them shrinks as Barney leans in closer.

“You know that thing we were talkin’ about last night? Y’know, while on the job…?” Barney asks, voice lowered to a whisper. “This’d be the perfect place, Gordon. Don’t ya think?”

Gordon’s eyebrows shoot up. All the puzzle pieces were starting to click into place. The furtive glances, the stolen kisses, last night’s conversation… No wonder Barney looked so eager, his lab really did fit the ticket for Barney’s increasingly more dangerous requests.

“Barney,” Gordon signs sternly. “I just got this lab. I don’t want to get fired this quickly.”

“But Gordon,” Barney practically purrs, placing his other hand on the desk. While he was shorter than Gordon, his bulk made it so that he practically pinned Gordon down. “If things go awry, I’ll just… use my seniority. I’m practically tenured compared to you, you know.”

Gordon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That holds no water here, Barney. Besides, I have some interns coming by soon to talk about some research. Now really--”

Abruptly, Gordon stops, frozen mid-sign. Barney is looking at him with a giddiness unbefitting a man his age. And the desk wasn’t nearly tall enough to disguise the other effects his words were clearly having on him.

“So, you were uh, sayin’, Dr. Freeman? Look, ain’t that a supply closet back there?” Barney says, fingers drumming across the desk. “Look, you can even push me around a little. Do whatever you want, Doc.”

Gordon sighs, leaning back in his chair. This was going to get them both fired, but how could he say no to that face? Barney looked extremely eager, practically wiggling where he stood, begging him with only his eyes. And, hopefully, if they were quick enough…

He glances up at the clock. Thirty minutes until those interns came to talk with him. They’d done more in less, right? This would be fine.

“Fine,” Gordon concedes, heaving himself to his feet. “Get in the back, Barney.”

Barney takes off like a shot, and he follows after him much more slowly. His skin was starting to prickle with something like anxiety, but hell, he worked well under pressure, didn’t he? This was nothing. He’d just order Barney to jerk himself off, leave the door cracked open (as he fantasized), and enjoy the show.

The door doesn’t click behind him as he slips inside. He takes extra care to make sure it’s left open, the empty lab visible through the slot. Barney, for his part, is already facing Gordon, bouncing uncertainly on his heels.

“You’re excited,” Gordon says. “We’ll get caught if we’re not fast. I just want you to jerk yourself off, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Barney says, hurriedly reaching for his belt. He loosens it with practiced speed, dropping his pants so that his hips were visible. His cock, already half-hard and growing stiffer, is easily fished out from the slit of his briefs, flushed pink under his hands.

Gordon crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the hard edge of the door frame, mindful not to hit the door with his shoulder. He even crosses his legs, toe bouncing against the tile in an impatient manner. When Barney looks up at him, checking for orders, he only flicks his finger dismissively.

Barney spits on his hand before stroking in earnest, starting from the base and rolling his thumb over the head, only to repeat. His boots scuff the floor-- the glossy, polished tile floor-- as he adjusts himself, tooth digging into his lip in a sorry effort to keep himself quiet. His head jerks as he alternates between staring down Gordon and the empty lab outside, excitement running down his spine. Wouldn’t it be horrible if they were caught?

He starts to stroke himself faster, spurred on by the thought, but another, darker part of him speaks up. How long did Gordon say they had? Thirty minutes? A shelf creaks under his weight as he leans fully against it, hand sliding down to the base of his cock and staying there. With a soft grunt, he takes his free hand, starting the process anew. If he wasn’t careful, he’d come too fast, and that just wouldn’t do.

Gordon hadn’t told him to get done quickly. Not directly, anyway. It was only ever implied.

The closet door squeaks, making a confused mixture of excitement and fear pulse through his body. He stares at the partially open door, noting that Gordon has moved to knock his shoulder into it. Now, the lab’s windows were visible. His hand moved across his dick while he stared at unsuspecting white coats passing by, oblivious to the empty lab with the bright lights. But God, wouldn’t it be nice if they could see him?

He jerks his gaze back to Gordon, panting softly. It’s starting to get hot underneath his security vest and heavy dress shirt, exertion easily combating Black Mesa’s 68 degrees. He stifles a groan by chewing on his tongue.

“We’re running out of time, darling,” Gordon says, tapping his knuckles along a shelf. His shoulder knocks against the door, pushing it open a little farther.

Barney huffs at him, stroking himself just a little slower. His other hand clenches more tightly around the base of his cock, but the sensation makes his hips buck. He spreads his feet out farther, shoulders slumping as he comes to a new conclusion.

He spits into both hands before adjusting his grip on his cock. He keeps the hold tight but not stifling, allowing enough give for him to thrust into himself, back arching to accomplish the task. Sweat ran in thin beads down his face, collecting on his chin. His mind wanders, imagining someone just bursting inside, walking in on them both. Walking in and seeing Barney fucking himself desperately on his own hand while Dr. Freeman watches, apparently disinterested. He moans despite himself, loud and nasally, head knocking into the shelf behind him.

He was finally starting to lose it. His thrusts grew faster and slightly erratic, cock now slick with both pre-cum and saliva. The heat in his lower stomach was coiling tighter, tighter, the excess translating into sweat that was making it difficult to move.

“Dr. Freeman?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

Barney jerks his head up in time to see the closet door swing wide open, admitting the face of a stranger. This brings to attention several things at once--

One, Gordon is way closer than he was before, body nearly pressed against his own.

Two, the person-- possibly the intern-- looks stricken, and stumbles back out of the room with a squeak.

And finally, three, Barney is fucking into his hand with a speed and fervor that has him spilling onto the floor in mere seconds with a loud shout.

He’s fairly certain that the only reason he stays upright is because Gordon grabs him, supporting him through the afterglow. Yet, all too quickly, he leaves, abandoning Barney to slide onto the floor with legs that shook like jelly.

* * *

By the time Gordon has chased off the interloper, his emotions have morphed into something even he doesn’t understand. His face is burning with embarrassment, but the only thing he can think of is Barney’s face as he orgasms just inches away, coming messily onto the floor. Upon closer inspection, he’d gotten his dress shoes, too, and the fluid was already drying. He rakes his fingers through his hair, steadying himself with a sharp pull before stepping back into the closet.

“Barney,” Gordon says, expression sharp. “What was that? I told you stop and you ignored me!”

“M’sorry,” Barney says, voice thick. “I didn’t see ya, I was kinda… distracted…”

Gordon huffs a breath. Distracted was an understatement.

“Look at the mess you made. You’re gonna have to clean that up, you know,” he signs, making sure Barney was still paying attention. “And since you got caught, you’re going to have to lick it up.”

The look Barney throws him sends way too much heat down between his legs. Heaving a shaky sigh, he just gestures at the mess of cum on the floor, glinting under the light.

“Hands and knees,” he orders forcefully, movements sharp.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Barney says hurriedly, already folding himself onto his knees.

To Gordon’s interest, Barney hadn’t fixed his pants, so they slid further down his hips as he lowered his face to the floor. It was a sight to behold, watching the big man with the proud stance and wide shoulders bend down like a dog, red tongue dragging across the tile floor without an ounce of hesitation. He bounces his leg, more heat pooling between his legs-- he could feel himself starting to drip, just from this alone. Fuck.

He would have said something if Barney was looking. Instead, he presses back into his space, gently resting his foot against Barney’s shoulder. He pushes down, and Barney grunts, lapping at the floor with an increased eagerness.

Satisfied, Gordon slides his dirtied shoe beneath his face, toe tapping incessantly.

Barney only pauses for a moment, but he takes the dress shoe with great care, turning beet red as some drool drips onto it. Quickly, he licks it clean, looking up at Gordon with wide, hazy eyes after he’s done.

“Good job, Barney,” Gordon says graciously, smiling. “I think that makes up for your mistake.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was a speedrun against my battery power. wrote this in two hours. i did not proofread it.


End file.
